


Bound by Blood

by lordclover



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22046203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordclover/pseuds/lordclover
Summary: Reia has dedicated several years to the Dark Brotherhood, completing contracts diligently. She is far from the best assassin, but she has always managed to finish her contracts in a timely matter. Her loyalty is tested by a contract she is uncertain she can complete. The name is far too familiar, someone all of Skyrim seems to revere. Kodlak Whitemane, Harbinger of the Companions. Unable to decline the contract, Reia heads off to Whiterun with a clear assignment. Kill Kodlak. Unfortunately that is easier said than done, within the guarded walls of Jorrvaskr it would be a suicide mission. This would not be an easy contract.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	Bound by Blood

Life in Skyrim was difficult. The people that survived were hardy and thick skinned from all walks of life. Nords primarily occupied the cold desolate land, but there were outsiders as well. Their lives were particularly difficult, many nords found them common pests encroaching on their land. There were many cities you could hear this fight echoing through the streets, one of the worst was Windhelm.

Windhelm was a cold city of stone with harsh people. There were few pleasantries exchanged on the streets, everything was shouted or commanded. With all the noise, it was easy for a thief to sneak in the shadows.

That day Reia merely skulked in the shadows, surveying each person. Her quick hands would not find anything that day, she was not looking for anymore trouble. Instead she was looking for someone. Typically that was a dangerous agenda, anyone that she was looking for turned up dead. The person she was looking for that day was unique, someone she would not dare approach. Instead she watched from the rooftops as he walked the streets. He did not hide in the shadows as she did, but instead walked with his head held high. He did not look at the beggars, not even as one slipped some coin from his pockets, but instead continued on his way.

Reia followed him, careful to remain hidden. She watched as he spoke to the blacksmith and exchanged coin for iron. He worked the afternoon away under the guidance of the blacksmith, creating dull daggers. The blacksmith never once smiled, but instead his lips remained thin and his eyes narrowed. He surveyed the daggers, scrutinizing each one. Reia merely watched as this continued.

Aventus Aretino was a curious boy that grown well. She had watched him for many years since their first and only meeting. She had heard he left Riften a year ago to return to his family home and had been there when he returned to Windhelm. She had watched him enter from the tall walls meant to protect the city from the outside.

He had entered the city at fifteen and set to work immediately. Reia had watched him scour the city for work, watched as he was turned away door by door. Even the blacksmith had turned him away. Reia had expected Aventus to give up, but instead he persisted. He was a nord after all. He found odd jobs for a year, until finally becoming the blacksmith’s apprentice. It seemed everything was falling into place for him.

Often Reia found herself wondering how his life would have changed if she had not intervened that day. How long would he have performed the Black Sacrament, begging for an assassin? He had done it for days before even she arrived. Would he have continued until he starved? Or until the cold settled into his bones? Would he have died alongside the skeleton? Reia had never dared ask Astrid when she planned on hearing the boy’s pleas, but she wondered.

It seemed Aventus’s life was better from the death of Grelod the Kind. Reia supposed that was some form of assurance to her. Grelod had been her first kill. Reia had spilled blood before but had never killed until then. It was not that big of a change for her, not really. She still hid in the shadows, still watched her target, still snuck inside without anyone the wiser. The only difference was when she drew back her bowstring and aimed for Grelod’s head. The woman died easy, only one iron arrow. She had collapsed instantly, as if a string that had been holding her old feeble body had been snapped. The children of the orphanage had heard this and ran into the room. Reia remembered waiting with bated breath for their screams, but it never came.

The kids rejoiced.

Reia had been one of them, a few years before. She had suffered under Grelod’s harsh care, felt the sting of her strike. She had been one of the lucky ones to escape, but after she had security tightened. Guards were more attentive; they returned the kids back to the orphanage in exchange for gold. Reia was certain Grelod reveled in their misery.

Distantly a bell tolled four times and Reia looked up, her amber eyes narrowing. Her arm burned in reminder of the contract she still had. She glanced back down at Aventus as he began to sharpen a dagger under the blacksmith’s close gaze.

This was a habit Reia kept well hidden. She kept a close gaze on Aventus. She knew this was something that would be frowned upon. One of the rules they all abided by was to never linger on a kill. The story would be shared among the other assassins, and then left. It was a reminder Reia needed constantly, she dwelled on it too much.

Astrid did not like her method of killing, she said it invited these feelings. She was not wrong, watching from the shadows for so long allowed Reia to learn more about them. They changed from a name written in blood to a person. This was useful for a thief, but not an assassin. It was an instinct she couldn’t shake; it was as natural as breathing. She liked to observe from a distance, get a lay of the land. Going in blind was a nightmare, not something she handled well. She could adapt, but preferred options.

As the bell rang again in reminder, Reia left. She stuck to the shadows as she crept along the rooftops, until finally reaching the giant cobblestone wall that surrounded Windhelm. If she truly wanted to leave undetected, Reia would have scaled the wall, but that day she did not feel it was worth her time. Instead she blended in with the crowd, avoiding the watchful gazes of the guards.

She continued out of the city alone and could feel the guards’ eyes on her. She looked like a criminal; she knew that. Many things gave her away, marked her as someone to watch. She wore a cowl with a hood casting shadows across her face and a cloak that kept the rest of her hidden. Her bow and quiver remained on her back, a clear sign she was not a merchant or farmer. If she was lucky, people would think of her as a traveler. She was never lucky, always had harsh eyes on her when she left the shadows. She did not belong in these cities. She was not a nord, not a stormcloak or imperial, and not welcome. The gates were open this time, but begrudgingly so. There had been a few times when she was forced to take alternate routes into cities or negotiate her way in. She did not blame them in the slightest, she understood who she was.

Reia reached the stables without any trouble, a few cold looks were cast her way, but that was it. Askari was situated in the furthest stall from the city, his copper pelt seemed a dull tawny in the shade. He looked up as Reia approached, his ears perking.

Askari stood out among the horses. He was leaner, not a sturdy Skyrim horse. He was built to be agile and quick, from a renowned breeder in Hammerfell. Technically, he was her horse. Reia had his papers on her, but he had been stolen. Stolen for a client, but circumstances left him with her. Some part of Reia had wanted to get rid of him, he served as a reminder of her deceased mother. She had also been from Hammerfell and had talked about taking Reia there constantly, but they never made it.

Reia took Askari’s reins and guided him out of the stables. She half expected to be stopped and asked to show her papers, but no one did. It had happened once or twice, but most guards left her alone. She looked like someone from Hammerfell, someone that would own a horse like Askari. Of course, he was a far more expensive horse than Reia would willingly pay, but she had stolen him. She was sure plenty suspected her of that.

She mounted Askari and guided him down the path, heading South. They had one more stop before returning to the sanctuary. The mark on her arm burned and Reia glanced down at it with a frown. She tugged the sleeve up to survey it; the mark burned an angry red against her russet skin. The other marks had faded into her skin, creating a spiral that ended just below her elbow. Reia stared at them for a moment, her gaze shifting over them to where they vanished under her sleeve. She sighed and tugged it back down.

They stuck to the main roads, only deviating when Reia spotted a gathering of Stormcloaks. The civil war was not something Reia wanted to be involved in. Neither side took well to that attitude, but the Stormcloaks tended to be particularly harsh. They hated all outsiders the same as the Thalmor, as if they were the ones banning Talos. It was unreasonable, but not a fight Reia was willing to take part in. There was a benefit of the civil war, it caused enough smoke for crime to go unnoticed by imperials and Stormcloaks alike. They were too busy fighting each other to take notice of raiding bandits.

As the sun began to set, they reached the small town of Shor’s Stone. It was primarily a mining town, the majority of people that lived there were miners. The few that weren’t worked in the inn. The town was made of seven buildings in total, all grouped around the main road. There was a fire leading smoke up through the night sky and Reia spotted several miners sitting together. A low hum of singing reached her, their voices merry and slurring together, their melodies uneven. They sounded drunk and content.

Reia continued past Shor’s Stone, suddenly wanting a mug of warm mead. She would have a reward eventually, but she needed to stay alert. Unlike the miners, she had little reason to celebrate. Even as they reached the cabin and her target fell easy, she felt little need to celebrate. The poor man had no chance, held no weapon, and lived alone. Far enough from the town no one would find him for days, possibly weeks. It was possible that wolves would find him first, taking care of his remains. Reia did not know why anyone would want the poor bastard dead, he did little to nothing of interest. He spent the day hunting and returned late to his cabin to retire. He spoke to no one in the few days Reia had spent watching. He wrote no letters, made little to no sound, but still had angered someone. She felt no guilt for his death, but instead felt relief as the mark on her arm burned sharply before fading alongside its brethren.

One more contract done and another mark earned. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading all of this! I am 100% changing up the Dark Brotherhood some (which is already shown with the marks, but I'll explain those next chapter) but it'll be pretty minor considering. I think the changes are improvements but we'll see if people hate it or not I guess c':  
> this chapter is just a set up chapter of Reia and how she goes about targets typically before jumping right into it so it's a little shorter than what I plan on posting, chapters will gradually get longer  
> let me know what you think! honestly posting this makes me a little nervous just bc I've seen so many really good Skyrim fanfics that are lore heavy and I'm honestly not going to delve to deep into lore stuff besides a surface level... but i hope you like anyway!


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